


Who Am I?

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Canon Era, Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Magic Revealed, Merlin is a Little Shit, Mind Control, Pain, Parent Gaius (Merlin), Protective Arthur, Protective Knights (Merlin), Recovery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin goes missing, but when he comes back, he isn't the same. Percival is put to the task of helping him recover.
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Percival (Merlin)
Comments: 216
Kudos: 298





	1. The problem

Arthur regretted getting too close, winced as a glob of saliva hit his face, the man snarling.

‘What could have done such a thing?’ He questioned, staring from the chained up man to Gaius, who looked worried.

‘Magic. Or worse, torture.’ Arthur didn’t know which one was worse, glanced back to his Knights, didn’t mention that Gwaine looked like he was about to pass out. Morgana looked horrified, tears in her eyes, and Gwen was quietly sobbing in the corner, clutching at her brother.

‘Merlin, it’s me.’ He tried, which earnt him another snarl, the man thrashing and trying to break free from the dungeons that they’d dragged him to.

‘If he really wanted you dead, he’d have done it by now. I suppose he might still have some control, Sire.’ Gaius was being awfully optimistic, considering Merlin had been missing for forty-three days, only to return like this. Lunging at him with a butter-knife while he was on the training field, and Arthur had narrowly avoided being stabbed.

‘Control?’ He hissed, looking to his friend and wondering why there was nothing recognisable in those blue eyes.

‘Of course. If he wanted you dead, he’d have used his Magic.’ And with that, Gaius stepped forwards and snapped something around Merlin’s wrist. The man didn’t like that one bit, lips drawing back into a murderous look.

‘Magic?’ Arthur felt faint, stared at the Physician that he’d trusted all his life, then to the manservant that couldn’t possibly be a sorcerer.

‘It means he’s still in there.’ Morgana whispered, and Arthur didn’t know what was worse.

‘Explain.’ He snapped to the old man, and Gaius gestured for them to leave.

**

‘If it was torture…’ Everyone winced, but Gaius couldn’t dwell on that point, not when Merlin was relying on him. He needed to understand what had happened, and it was clear that he trusted nobody.

‘Then they have used our memories against him. It would explain his aggression.’ He tried to explain, watched as Morgana Pendragon got it first. She was incredibly smart, quicker than her brother, the King, and just as talented with her Magic.

‘So we need someone who has not been altered.’ Gaius smiled, even if it cracked open his heart to do so. This was his nephew, the boy that was his son, to all extents and purposes. He’d helped raise him, guide him with his destiny, and now he could hear Merlin’s screams and shouts of vague sounds from all the way down the corridor.

‘But who?’ Gwen asked, wiping at her eyes. Gaius gave her a sympathetic look, she had thought she would be able to get through to Merlin, only for him to spit at her as well.

‘It cannot be you, Sire. Nor Gwen or Lady Morgana. Sir Lancelot is too close, knowing about Merlin’s Magic before this.’ All this time, Gaius had thought Merlin’s Magic would be the secret that Arthur could not take. Yet the King was acting maturely, accepting the lies due to the need for them to help Merlin, they could discuss the Magic later.

‘Sir Gwaine, I believe you’d be too close as well. Elyan, you might be an issue due to Gwen being your sibling. And Sir Leon, Merlin’s known you for years.’ Gaius looked to the last Knight, and he gave a brave look.

‘I’ll do it.’ Arthur looked ready to argue, but Percival shook his head.

‘It’s Merlin, Sire. I’ll do anything it takes.’ Gaius had always been amazed with Merlin’s ability to inspire loyalty with those around him, especially the Knights of Camelot. The five of them had adopted Merlin into their group like he was one of their own.

‘You must be careful. Merlin will be distrusting of anyone, no matter if the memories have been tampered with.’ If this was torture, if Merlin’s mind had fallen this far, Gaius did not know if they would ever get the old Merlin back. He didn’t say that, couldn’t do it to himself, he had to have hope.

‘I understand. I’ll be cautious, but that band, are you sure it can hold someone as strong as Emrys?’ Telling them Merlin’s name had been a risk, but one he had taken in the hope that it would help. Percival, having been raised by Druids, was more than aware of the prophecies. That might help Arthur trust Merlin once again, when the Magic was brought up.

‘It should, plus he did not try and hurt us with it. Deep in there, Merlin is trying to show us he’s still alive.’ Gaius hoped that his words were the truth, otherwise he would pay for these words later.

‘Please, Sire?’ Percival questioned, and Arthur nodded.

‘We have to get Merlin back.’ Two sides of the same coin, indeed.

‘If you can, try and work out if he has any injuries.’ Gaius added, having been unable to do such a thing without drugging him, which would have shattered any chance of speaking to him.

‘And if he is?’

‘I’ll teach you how to address the injuries. Or Merlin might remember how.’ He had to hope his son had not forgotten everything, because Gaius did not know how much they could bring back.

**

Percival walked into the cell, regarded Merlin curiously. The man stared back, watching as he held up the waterskin.

‘I thought you might be thirsty.’ He looked it, his voice had sounded hoarse when he’d been screaming, and Percival could only hope that the servant would listen. As usual, he didn’t, glaring with an unhidden fury. Then it softened, and he nodded to Percival, looking from the water, to him.

‘You want me to drink it?’ That earned him a nod, and Percival realised that Merlin feared it had been poisoned. He rose the waterskin to his lips, let Merlin watch as he poured a mouthful in, swallowed it down.

‘It’s safe, I assure you.’ He took a step closer, staring at Merlin’s arms, chained either side. His leather jacket was remarkably well-kept, his shirt underneath not the one he’d been wearing when he’d gone missing. The trousers had changed, and the boots were muddy.

He rose the waterskin carefully, held it to Merlin’s lips, and the servant drank like he hadn't done so in days. Once it was empty, he lowered it, watched as his tongue darted out to catch the moisture on his cracked lips.

‘T-thank you.’ The first words spoken, voice rusty and unused.

‘Do you know my name?’ Percival asked hopefully, watched Merlin study him, before he shook his head. It burned his chest, tightened the band around it until he felt ears threaten to spill. No, he had to stay calm, he was doing this for Merlin.

‘I am Percival.’ The offering of his name was greeted with a stare, before the Knight reached for the bread he had brought. Like he’d done before, he tore a piece off, chewed it and swallowed. Then ripped another part, brought it towards Merlin’s lips.

He ate it, never taking his eyes off of the fingers at his lips, or Percival’s eyes. He looked like a spooked doe, wide-eyed and ready to bolt, not that he could go far.

Percival knew he would get no more from their first meeting, Gaius had warned it may seem tedious, but he had to learn to trust him. It was when he reached the door that Merlin spoke, words so quiet he might have imagined them.

‘I don’t know who I am.’ The Knight swallowed, bowed his head and darted from the room before the tears could fall.


	2. A wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't like his name, and Percival's confused

For the first three days, the man that called himself Percival came twice a day. He brought with him water and food, and the sorcerer would allow himself to relax slightly. He had been released from the chains, could now sit in his cell and wait for the Knight to come, to sit with him while he ate, before leaving. He was allowed out once a day to wash and relieve himself, before returning to the cell that he had been placed in.

The Knight called him Merlin, and said that he had been a friend. That Camelot had been his home. The sorcerer tried to think back to what happened before he met the Woman, but could find nothing beyond it. A jumbled mess, yet the names that Percival spoke made his head ache in the worst possible ways. They did not talk about the others, then. The King that he was supposed to kill, and any that stood in his way.

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t use his Magic. Something deep down told him that he shouldn’t, and so the sorcerer hadn't killed the King when he’d first seen him. Now, his Magic was restrained by an iron lock around his wrist. It was annoying, because he was injured and needed to check to see if any of the wounds required major healing, but he could no longer do that.

On the fourth day, Percival stated that they were going to walk outside. The thought of seeing sunlight did cheer him up, so he rose and waited for cuffs to be placed around his wrists. When they weren’t, he concluded that the Knight was ridiculously naïve.

‘Come on, Merlin.’ That name again, he hated it. Following Percival through a labyrinth of tunnels, before out into the bright sun, and the sorcerer glanced back to the Castle. Somewhere, within the walls that he could see was the King of Camelot. The one he was supposed to kill. But why?

The sun warmed his skin, and with Percival silent by his side, the sorcerer was free to walk where he pleased. He wasn’t sure how he knew where to go, how to find the stretch of green grass that looked like a training ground, but he took the opportunity to sit down and stretch out. His injuries were painful, yet he could not show a weakness. If they were the enemy, then it would be unwise.

But why didn’t they just kill him? Why show him care, if he was on the opposite side? So many things didn’t make sense, and he pondered over them while Percival sat beside him.

‘How would you choose who to listen to?’ The sorcerer asked his Guard, unsure why he had spoken. They kept conversation to a minimum, it was better that way. The Knight startled, looked across with eyes that showed compassion.

‘I’d go with my heart.’ Naïve, definitely. A fool, if he thought everything was so simple.

‘And if my heart doesn’t have an opinion?’ That was a lie, but he couldn’t identify what it was trying to tell him.

‘Then I’d go with my gut.’ A Knight, that made sense. He turned back to the grassy field, looked to where some men in chainmail were playing with swords. None of the ones that made his head go fuzzy, he didn’t really recognise these ones.

‘Care to make a wager with me?’ If he could not use Magic, then he would use the next best thing. A plan to draw Percival from his usual role as Guard. Sure enough, the Knight looked tempted.

‘On what?’

‘A sword-fight. A fair fight, a sword each, no armour.’ Percival snorted, before realising he was serious, and his head cocked to the side. For such a large man, he was actually quite soft. Showing that side of him, if this man named Merlin was the enemy, that was foolish.

‘If you win?’ He was considering it, then.

‘A couple of moments without this band around my wrist.’ He gestured to the one that blocked his Magic, and Percival looked ready to decline.

‘I assure you, I will not flee, nor attempt to harm you.’ He just needed to check his injuries, to see if he was in any danger.

‘And if I win?’ The sorcerer shrugged, gestured for him to make his bargain.

‘If I win, then you have to agree to let me see the extent of your injuries.’ Curious. He studied the Knight for a moment, wondered why he would want such a thing. Was it to search for a weakness, or out of compassion? It made little sense to him, but either way he might find out if he was injured, so he agreed to the terms.

‘Come on then.’ Percival seemed very confident that he would win, implying that if he had known him before this, that Merlin wasn’t very handy with a sword. Did he just rely on his Magic? Then how did the King not know about it?

The Knights scattered with just one word from Percival, who moved across to the weapons rack. He picked up a sword, tested the balance of it, and then moved to give him some space. Even injured, the sorcerer knew he would be able to fight, picked up a sword and turned to his opponent.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Sir Percival inquired, and he beckoned for him to come at him.

His swings were well-trained, accurate in a way that the sorcerer identified. But the Knight was tall, bulky, it proved to be his downfall. It took only a couple of dodges, some light footwork and some hits placed in strategic blind-spots before he confused the gentle giant, knocked the sword from his hand by hitting the shoulder at an angle. He tripped, the sorcerer moving smoothly to press his sword to the man’s neck as he went to reach for his weapon.

_Kill._

He placed his sword to the side, offered the man a hand up. No harm in being civil at this moment, not when the Knight brought him food.

‘You look surprised.’ The sorcerer stated, eyeing up his Guard.

‘Merlin couldn’t fight.’

‘I’m not Merlin.’ He replied smoothly, then held out his cuffed hand. He expected the man to go back on his deal, but he reached into his pocket, pulled out keys. Another weakness, showing him where they were kept.

The band fell, and he let his Magic build under his skin. The bruising on his stomach wasn’t internal, but the wound might need re-stitching, and his legs ached. His feet needed treatment, and he was worried about an infection. If he had his Magic for extended periods of time, the infection would be killed automatically, but with it gone…

‘It seems you’ll get your wish, also. I require medical attention.’ The sorcerer picked the band back up, snapped it around his wrist and didn’t try and identify why Percival felt shock.

‘Right, I could get you the Physician…’ He recoiled, that was a tender spot, his head screamed just at the word.

‘No, no I could grab the stuff myself? And… you could apply it?’ Percival was trying to be accommodating, something that made the sorcerer wonder what side he was really supposed to be on.

‘I suppose that might work.


	3. Fixing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's not having a great time tbh

Percival walked Merlin into the room, before pausing.

‘There’s a bowl of water, all the medical supplies that G… the Physician said you might need.’ He watched as his old friend moved across to stare, flicking through the contents and nodding his head.

‘I take it you have to stay?’ Arthur had been unimpressed that one of his Knights had lost a duel to Merlin, before realising that in order for anyone to learn that quickly, there had to be something horrible behind the training. When he’d explained that Merlin had done very little with his Magic, Arthur had been more willing to keep him out of the Dungeons.

They still had no idea who’d hurt him. Or if they had, but considering Merlin had asked for medical attention, Percival figured there was an injury or two.

‘I can avert my eyes…’ He had actually been told to watch the entire thing, Arthur was terrified of what Merlin was hiding.

‘Your King told you not to.’ Percival watched as Merlin slowly took off his jacket, eyes roaming to his arms. Marks around the wrists from manacles, and not just the ones that they used. A couple of old bruises, healing, and a nasty cut running along his forearm. It looked awfully like a self-inflicted wound, designed to kill, but he didn’t dare to ask.

Then came the shirt.

Merlin’s back was littered with whip-marks, stretching over the pale skin. Most had healed, were presumably from the first couple of days in captivity. Beneath them, fainter scars that must have come before his time away from Camelot.

There was a mark around his neck, as well. Similar patterning to a rope-burn, and he held his breath when Merlin reached for the water. When he turned, Percival immediately went for the largest wound. A stitched cut that ran from his third rib across his stomach, ugly and messy.

‘I need to cut the old stitches out, and redo them. Could you hand me a knife?’ He moved across, unable to take his eyes off the wound.

‘How did it happen?’ He didn’t hand the knife across, instead slowly moved the blade towards Merlin’s stomach, waiting to see if the sorcerer would allow it. He did, although he flinched when the Knight touched his skin.

‘I disobeyed my training.’ Percival wanted to ask, wanted to sob and beg Merlin to tell them what had happened to him. Rather than doing any of that, he slowly cut at the stitches, stared in horror as Merlin pulled at the thread without wincing.

‘Do you want something for the pain?’

‘I’ll manage.’ Percival had seen Knights scream and cry when they were stitched up. Merlin did no such thing, threaded his needle and began to stich his own skin shut, gasping quietly at every dig.

‘Merlin…’

‘You know I dislike that name.’ The sorcerer looked up at him, before back to the cut.

‘It is the one you were born with. The one… the one my friend had.’ He tried the words, dared to speak them aloud. Merlin’s eyebrows shot up, before the tiniest frown formed.

‘My life before… this,’ He vaguely waved at his body, ‘Is all a blur. Yet there are things… I see things in dreams, I know this place. I don’t understand why, and I hate it.’ His bright eyes were filling with tears, and Percival didn’t think, placed a hand down on his shoulder. The manservant looked so young, so unsure, and Percival shook his head.

‘We will spend every moment for the rest of our lives assuring you of anything you cannot remember. You are one of us, Merlin. Our friend.’ He’d pushed too far, Merlin was shutting down once more, jerked out of his hold and went back to cleaning up his wounds.

Bruised ribs, mottled marks and tiny burns that he stared at. Over his hips, finger-print bruising that was a dark blue. What on earth had happened to him?

Merlin finished up, dressed the wound and then sat down, slowly unlacing his boots. When they came off, the Knight gagged.

‘Gross, huh?’ Merlin joked, so close to the old him that Percival felt his head go blank. Bruised toes, a mess of black and blue, with most of the nails missing.

‘Why do that?’ He couldn’t stop the words, saw Merlin’s surprise.

‘To stop me running. But… I had scars before they started. I presumed…’

‘We would NEVER!’ He had no idea what had happened to Merlin, but to think…

‘Could I… see my room?’ Merlin asked randomly, washing his feet and dressing them. Percival hesitated, but if it was a chance for Merlin to remember things…

‘Come on then.’

**

The sorcerer stared at the book he’d just pulled from the hiding spot, didn’t acknowledge the Knight in the doorway. It was a spell-book, worn at the edges, thumbed through repeatedly if the wear was any indication. It looked loved, pages marked and scribbled writing around some of the pages, and the man lowered his head.

‘I don’t understand.’ He whispered, felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. The room was relatively plain, clothes sprawled around and he looked at the satchel. At the neckerchief, all things that made his head ache in the most awful way.

‘Merlin?’ He didn’t even complain about the name, responded to it like it was his own.

‘How did I know where it was?’ He cradled the book, stared up at the Knight, uncaring of the tears that rolled down his face.

He’d been in so much pain. That was all he could remember, and before that, nothing. Yet he knew Camelot, and he was so _alone_.

Percival sat down beside him, wrapped arms around his frame and let the sorcerer sob into his arms. There were so many things he didn’t understand, and he just wanted to have someone to rely on for once.

**

_‘I meant you, Merlin. It isn’t the Princess that I’m staying for.’ He sucked in air, looked at the man staring back over the fire. Soulful brown eyes, the normal playful smirk gone. A serious conversation, and Merlin could feel his heart hammering away in his chest._

_‘Gwaine…’_

_‘You know how I feel about you.’ He did, but he couldn’t understand why. The Knight was worth so much more than Merlin was._

_‘Please, I don’t… I can’t do this.’ His Destiny, that was what he was supposed to be focused on. So why was it so hard, to tear away his gaze from Gwaine?_

**

Percival had been woken that night, a Guard telling him that Merlin had woken screaming. He ran, ignored Leon and Gwaine that had also woken, told them to alert the King but not to come down. If they got close, his progress might be undone.

Merlin’s cell had improved. A bed had been brought it, with soft blankets and a bedside table, books for him to read if he wanted. A candle was lit, and it was enough for the Knight to see Merlin, huddled in the corner and wrapped up, hugging his knees to his chest.

‘Merlin?’ It was the second time that the Warlock did not protest the name, he looked up with tearful eyes.

‘Who’s Gwaine?’ Not what he had expected. Percival stepped into the cell, perched on the edge of the bed carefully. A night terror, or a memory?

‘A Knight of Camelot. A… friend of yours.’ Friend, it was clear to all of them that Gwaine was something more than a friend. Or he could have been, had Merlin not been so oblivious to the Knight’s affections.

‘Why don’t I remember him?’ He whispered, lips trembling. Percival felt his heart shatter, couldn’t stop himself from moving across to sit beside him. Strangely, it was Merlin who initiated the contact, leant into his touch and didn’t complain when Percival wrapped an arm around him.

‘What did they do to you?’ He questioned instead of answering. The sorcerer shuddered but did not reply.

The silence stretched onwards, but Percival had no intention of leaving the man alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea which way I'm going to swing the ships in this story


	4. Walk on your Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's beginning to remember, but it's a painful experience

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Percival asked him, and Merlin wasn’t sure of the answer. Ever since finding the book, he’d been pushing his mind to remember whatever he’d forgotten, needed to understand why he was here. The Knight had been nothing but patient, had let him move into a small cot in Percival’s room, rather than down in the Dungeons. That way, whenever nightmares woke him, the man was close by.

Merlin didn’t like relying on anybody, still refused to tell the Knight anything about what had happened to him. Now, that was changing, starting with this meeting on the grass. Camelot’s sky was bright, the sun shining down onto the clearing, but it did nothing to soothe his nerves.

He’d asked to see the others. Merlin hadn't been near them since the Dungeon, since he spat at anyone that dared to get close. Honestly, every time he tried to think of the King, his head hurt so badly that he almost passed out. That told him that killing him probably wasn’t the right idea, that maybe Percival was telling the truth when he suggested that Merlin was one of them.

When he spotted the King, he skipped over him almost immediately. Beside him was a woman dressed in lavender, with dark hair and a bright smile, the warmest eyes. Guinevere, his mind supplied, and he winced. Next to her was another woman, with eyes a burning green and dark hair that was pinned behind her head. Magic wrapped around her form, and he recognised her as Morgana Pendragon, sister to the King. Sister to somebody else, as well.

That was a thought he shoved away, turned his attention to the Knights of Camelot. Gwen’s brother, Elyan, was the one he studied first. There was a slight burn in his head, far less that with the others. A tall man with a mess of curls, a cheerful smile that seemed hesitant, the First Knight of Camelot. Sir Leon.

Percival had told him that Sir Leon was a friend, despite his position in charge. Merlin doubted that they’d want anything to do with him, but hadn't stated that aloud.

Next came Lancelot. He was recognisable mostly due to his hair, the eyes. Not originally a Knight, and not viewed as that much of a threat. Finally, he forced himself to look at Sir Gwaine.

So far, this was the only one he remembered. Dark eyes and even darker hair, perfectly windswept in a way that Merlin envied. The moment their gazes met, a smirk twitched at his lips, and Merlin found it so painful that he almost wished he had a knife. What he would have done with it, he didn’t know, but it was the thought that counted.

He noted that the Physician had not come, which he was thankful for. If he kept the distinction between a professional role, and a friend, it was easier to separate the painful memories from everything else.

‘Any urge to stap him?’ Percival asked, loud enough that the King would have picked up on it. Merlin studied the man once more, just briefly, wondered what all the fuss was about. Such a big deal about him, the “Once and Future King”, yet he didn’t look that special.

‘An urge to stab you if you don’t shut up.’ He snarked, rolling his eyes to the Knight by his side. Percival chuckled, but fell silent once again, and Merlin looked over the group. They were waiting for him to move, he realised.

He picked Guinevere, mostly because she was the one who was least threatening. She held no weapon, had nothing malicious about her, and Merlin’s time before Camelot taught him that she wasn’t deemed a risk. Still, he approached cautiously, kept his senses alert on those beside her.

Knowing her name wasn’t the issue. He’d known it before stumbling onto the training field, his captors had ingrained the knowledge of each of the group, Percival aside, into his head. The issue was that he wanted to remember her, like he remembered the book.

‘I… I’m Guinevere.’ It hurt her to say, that was the emotion he picked up on. They must have been friends, for it to hurt this much to speak to each other. Merlin listened to the words, let them bounce around inside his brain for a moment, before something clicked. Something small.

‘At least this time we meet with me able to take your hand, Guinevere.’ He offered out his hand, remembered briefly the smell of rotten tomatoes and of staring up at her. She gasped, but looked delighted, didn’t hesitate to slip her hand into his. Smooth skin, although rough at the edge of her palms, callouses from working. A servant, one that had risen in favour with both the King and his sister.

‘Do you… how much do you remember?’ He dropped her hand after letting his thumb brush over the skin, trying to soak in the feeling.

‘Very little. Nothing, until you spoke.’ Her voice was familiar, he had a feeling they had been close. Her smile faltered, and Merlin took a step back, felt Percival tense slightly behind him.

‘You really remember nothing of Camelot?’ The King snapped, and Merlin winced. His head burnt at the voice, reached up to try and relieve the pressure, before remembering he hadn't got his Magic.

‘Arthur.’ Morgana Pendragon hit her brother, but the King ignored her, stepped closer to Merlin.

‘Merlin.’

‘Princess, think about what you’re doing.’ There were too many people talking, Merlin’s head was ringing, a faint buzz in his ears. The King stretched his hand out, like he was going to touch him, and if he’d had his Magic, he would have used it in that moment.

_‘Do you know how to walk on your knees?’_

He shoved back, almost tripping over Percival in his attempt to flee from the King that he had definitely met before attempting to kill him. He managed to get to the floor in time to empty his stomach, bile that burnt the back of his throat and his head screaming at him not to show such a weakness in company that would have him dead.

Would they? If what Percival said was true, these people were his friends.

‘Easy, deep breaths.’ A hand was on his back, but it was only the Knight, so he didn’t try and pull away from it. He didn’t press down hard, mindful of the whip-marks across his skin.

‘I take it that hurt?’ He asked carefully, while Merlin regained his breath. Flashes of dark crossed over his eyes, of a man brandishing a whip, of golden eyes that would kill.

‘You think?’ He shot back, accepted the water that was offered out and rinsed his mouth. Gross.

A hand helped him up, Percival’s touch no longer triggering his mind to react like it did with everybody else. The King had retreated, looked horrified at what had just happened. The others looked angry, more at the King than at Merlin, which was funny.

‘Can we go back? I don’t think this is a good idea.’ Merlin didn’t want to be here with them anymore, wanted to go and train with Percival like the Knight had promised.

‘Of course.’ He was walking back with Percival when he halted, couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he needed to help them.

‘You should post extra Knights at the East Wall tonight.’ The King startled, looked ready to ask him why, but Merlin turned his back to him.

If they found out what he’d just done, Merlin wouldn’t live to see the sunlight again.

**

Percival grunted, hit the floor and felt the blade pressing into his skin. He knew Arthur was watching them train, that the others would be as well, but Merlin was just too good now.

‘You almost had me.’ Merlin remarked, looking amused. Percival stood up, reclaimed his sword and rolled his shoulders, kept an eye on the sneaky man opposite him.

‘How did you learn?’ He asked, lunging for a head-on attack, expecting it when the manservant feinted left. The block was shielded, before Merlin was kicking out and moving so quickly that Percival barely had time to rise his sword.

‘An ex-Knight of Escetir.’ Merlin panted, parried a blow. The air whistled as his sword came back down, Percival taking a half-step back, shifting his balance. That was new information, Merlin never usually answered those questions.

‘He must have been good.’ Percival grunted out, slammed the hilt of his sword into Merlin’s shoulder as he rocked back, hooked his foot behind the smaller man’s ankle and watched as he fell. The sword came up to defend him, but he’d used that trick last time, and he managed to disarm the sorcerer.

Something odd flashed through his eyes. Fear. Merlin was scared, and Percival halted instantly.

‘Merlin?’ 

‘Sorry. I… It isn’t a good thing when I fail.’ Percival felt the air leave his lungs, his heart stopping at the implications that came with that statement. He’d often considered the King a harsh teacher, he had very little sympathy for Knights that didn’t perform to the best of their abilities. But it was never fear, he didn’t think Arthur would hurt him if he wasn’t good enough.

‘What happens?’ He dared to ask, thinking to all the bruising and cuts he’d seen.

‘Something worse than torture.’ Merlin whispered, before he seemed to snap out of his haze, stood sharply. Percival was left to watch as he picked back up his sword, cleared his throat and rose it back up.

‘Again.’ He demanded.

What could be worse than torture?


	5. The Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's advice saved them, but he's put himself in danger

Percival watched as the man was strung up, held his breath when Arthur asked the question again. Who was he, and why had they attacked the Eastern wall of Camelot? What did they want? The man hadn't got very far, nor had his accomplices, Merlin’s warning had kept the Knights of Camelot safe.

‘If I don’t return, they’ll know. They’ll come for him.’ The man spat out, and Percival tensed up.

‘Who’s they.’ Arthur asked calmly, but the man just rocked back into the chains, began to laugh. It was a haunting sound, echoing through the Dungeons, and Arthur took a step back.

‘Kill him.’ He simply stated, and Gwaine was the one to reach for his sword. The man continued to laugh, tears streaking down his cheeks, but he looked sad.

‘She’s going to tear him apart.’ It sounded awfully like a promise.

**

Merlin watched as Percival walked back into the room, the fire the only light the room had. He looked tired, a frown set on his face, and the Warlock knew that they had found the people that were supposed to attack.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked gently, the Knight looking across to him.

‘He said that… someone was going to come for you.’ Merlin had been expecting that, he knew the risks of telling them what was about to happen in Camelot. Somehow, his loyalty was still torn. Percival watched him carefully, studying his expression as Merlin tried to keep his emotions in check.

‘It wouldn’t be surprising.’ He admitted to the Knight. The very thought had his stomach turning sour, remembering what he had promised to do. The King was supposed to be dead. If not him, then those closest to him, yet Merlin was staying in the room of one of them. Helping them.

‘Why risk your safety? We would never have known that you were aware of the attack.’ Merlin was asking himself the same question, what had made him tell the King? Why had he gone against his own protection, had spilt secrets that would have him losing his head?

‘I don’t know.’ A slight lie, he did it because he felt like he’d done it before. That his security was second to that of the King, but it was a messy thought.

‘I’m going for some air.’ Merlin rose, grabbed the blanket and took it with him. Percival made no move to stop him, so he slipped into the corridor and walked through the Castle, before making it up to the ramparts. Despite the Knight not taking him here, he knew how to reach the location, walked out under the starry sky and halted.

Percival was protecting him. He tried to convince himself that was why he’d admitted to the attack, not because of everything else that was a blur inside his mind. With the band still around his wrist, he was worried that he would never truly be at peace anywhere. Especially not if they were coming after him.

‘I believe I have you to thank, for saving my arse.’ The voice was filled with humour, and when Merlin turned, it was accompanied with a friendly smile.

‘Good evening, Sir Elyan.’ He greeted, then looked back out across Camelot. The Knight of Camelot moved forwards, but he wasn’t really a threat.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ That was part of it, yes.

‘I heard the attack was stopped.’ Changing the conversation was simple, Knights did love to talk about themselves.

‘With some help. We would have been overpowered, had you not tipped us off.’ Indeed. If he hadn't have told them, then the assassin would have made it into Camelot, and Merlin might have had a chance of surviving. Instead, he showed that he hadn't yet done his job.

‘Are any of them alive?’ He prayed they were not, but Elyan frowned.

‘The King is with one of them now.’ Merlin’s curiosity was going to kill him, but he couldn’t help himself.

‘Can I see him?’

**

The Assassin had been told his job was simple. It was supposed to be, she’d assured him that he’d slip in, find his way into the Castle, and deposit the item. That once it was done, he was free to go. The money would last him a lifetime, yet now he was in the Dungeons of Camelot, and the King had given the order to kill him.

That stupid boy, the one that she thought she’d broken. Evidently not, because a Knight was about to kill him.

‘Sire?’ The assassin halted in his laughter, the moment he met those blue eyes. The boy stepped out from behind the Knight, cocked his head as he moved towards him.

‘Emrys.’ He greeted sourly, tried to gather what exactly had happened to the man. It was clear that he wasn’t in their favour, the King looked ready to have him dragged away. A band around his wrist indicated his Magic had been stripped, something his Ladyship had done as well, although with a more effective method.

‘Aidan.’ He was recognised, then. The Warlock looked unsure, so very terrified and small now that he was here, and the man grinned.

‘She’s going to kill you. Break open your head like a fruit.’ It was the truth, he had no need to lie. Merlin seemed to get that as well, the manservant shuddering before his spine straightened.

‘Why can’t I remember?’ The assassin hadn't been paid to look to closely into the methods used to torture, but he’d heard the screams. He’d listened to the spells, and to the pain inflicted. Had watched as his Ladyship was mentored by the Druid, who informed her on how to break somebody apart. On how to control them from the inside, to change their very way of thinking.

‘Don’t you remember the dark, Emrys? You stayed down there for so long.’ The Warlock recoiled away, a frown that was the only indication of the headache he had to be feeling. If he didn’t remember the things before the tower, then it suggested the only reason he hadn't killed the King was because of a gut feeling.

The Druid had warned them that it might happen, that the prophecy that involved him might prevent Emrys from ever killing the King of Camelot.

‘Tell me how to reverse it.’ He was a fierce little thing, even as he stepped forward, right up to him. It would be easy for the assassin to spit, to try and lash out, but there was no point. His death would be just as useful as him living. Either way, her Ladyship would know that Emrys had failed, and that she needed to come and fetch him.

‘You’re going to die.’ He promised the younger man. Emrys looked thoughtful, before nodding slowly.

‘Not before you, though.’

**

Merlin reached for him before the Knights could stop him, gripped like he was taught, and yanked at such an angle. It took a lot of body strength to crack somebody’s neck, the right amount of pressure to severe the spinal cord, but he’d had practice. The crack was deafening, the man falling limp, and he heard someone gasp behind him.

If he was going to be hunted down, he needed his Magic. He could flee, but then Camelot would still be under threat. The closer she got to him, the more likely it was that he forgot how to control his mind.

‘Merlin?’ Sir Gwaine dared to speak, and the ache in his head returned.

‘It was a test. I was supposed to let them get in.’ A test that he’d failed with flying colours, proving to her that he was breaking free of her control.

‘Who’s coming?’ The King asked, while Merlin studied the dead man in front.

‘Death.’ He answered quite simply, before escaping from the dark.


	6. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's beginning to remember some things

‘Do they have sorcerers?’ Percival asked, throwing the knife in the direction of the target. Merlin listened to the thud as it hit, watched some of the younger Knights turn to clap politely. The King was over the far side, a distance between them that was big enough for Merlin to feel comfortable. He could feel their gaze on him, ever since he’d snapped the neck of the assassin three nights ago.

‘Unexperienced ones? No.’ He remembered them, young and naïve. Brought to the cause to try and legalise Magic, a thing already happening in Camelot under the careful watch of both the King and his sister.

They had been terrified of his power, but more terrified of the Lady. She’d turned her cold eyes towards them, ordered Merlin’s obedience, and then…

‘Why not?’ Percival threw another knife, this time aimed at the target that was further away. Merlin let his eyes watch the Knight’s form, picking up on some pointers, before thinking back to the question.

‘They kept being killed.’ Because of him. He would be connected to them, would _feel_ their Magic, and then she’d have them executed before he could stop her. If there was one thing he hated, more than any of the torture he had suffered, it had been others dying for his inability.

‘During training?’ Merlin stepped forwards, snatched one of the knives and tested the balance. Throwing knives weren’t a speciality of the man that trained him, he’d proved to be quite bad at it when the target was a living sorcerer.

Well, not living anymore.

‘Something like that.’ Merlin grumbled, before focusing on the target. He let his feet spread slightly, loosened his shoulder muscles and controlled the action in his wrist. The knife was thrown, hit the target with a satisfying sound, right in the centre.

‘Pretty good.’ Percival praised, a method of teaching that Merlin much preferred.

‘They have some sorcerers with potential.’ Merlin took another knife, copied his first action and watched as it buried next to the original knife.

‘Stronger than you?’ At the moment? Yes, because he still had the band around his wrist. Instead of answering the question, he shrugged vaguely.

‘Lady Morgana could beat them.’ Individually. If the group came at her, she’d need training to be able to hold off against that many.

‘Would you like your Magic back?’ He threw the dagger again, the statement rattling him more than he would like to admit. It showed, the knife hit the outer ring.

‘Is that a trick question?’

‘You know it isn’t.’ Merlin paused, then slowly offered out his hand. Percival didn’t hesitate like he had, took the key from around his neck and slipped it into the band. It unlocked and dropped, Merlin sucking in air sharply as his Magic flooded back through his system.

This time, it didn’t ache. It prodded and poked at some of his injuries, especially the one on his stomach, but then retreated back down to his core. A warmth so unlike the cold days down in the dark, it made him feel slightly safer. He didn’t bother to test it, he knew it would respond. He turned for another dagger, then halted.

It was smooth, a jewel sitting in the pommel. The hilt was made of a corded leather, Merlin slowly picking it up and turning it in his grip. Familiar, he could almost remember holding this before.

‘Whose knife is this?’ He asked, pressed the point of the blade against the tip of his finger. Percival was watching him with an unreadable expression, although his lips were turning into a smile.

‘Sir Gwaine’s.’ Intriguing, he’d seen this before. Held it. Merlin let the blade rest in his hand, studied the inscription on the cross-guard. It was a family name, scratched out with another knife.

_‘You really didn’t want to remember them?’ Merlin asked, tucking the knife into his belt and looking to the Knight. He shrugged, kept a hand on the pommel of his sword as they studied the empty Tavern._

_‘I have their memory in my head. I don’t need it on my weapon.’ Gwaine had given him a dagger that was important to him, Merlin felt his skin heat up slightly and turned away from the gaze._

‘Merlin!’ He had dropped the knife, gripped at his head as the pain increased. Percival’s hand was on his shoulder, comforting but not overbearing, and he slowly rose up.

‘I’m fine. Fine, just an ache.’ When he picked the knife back up, he put it down and chose a different one.

‘What did you see?’

‘Nothing.’ He lied, focusing back on the targets.

**

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were in here.’ Merlin rose his head from the book he was reading, watched as Guinevere looked around nervously.

‘No need to apologise. I was just wanting an escape from Sir Percival.’ He even risked a joke, smiled when Gwen’s laughter filled the space. The door to the laundry store fell shut, and Merlin watched as she walked across to the other bench in the room, perched upon it.

‘What are you reading?’ He clipped the edge of the book, shut the cover and showed it to her. A book he’d stolen from the restricted section on Magic, now that he had his back.

‘Magic?’ Her eyes showed a mixture of fear and awe. Perhaps because she was Lady Morgana’s maid, she was fearful. No, something more. He pushed further into his mind, demanding the answer to his question, sighing in relief when it popped up.

‘You’re scared of Magic after what happened to your Father.’ He watched her shock, then the hopeful looked that crossed her face.

‘You remember?’

‘A little. I remember trying to help him.’ And failing. He had a feeling that happened quite often.

‘You did. Magic… It can be dangerous. But I’ve seen my Lady use it for good.’ He wondered if she was aware that Lady Morgana should be the villain in this tale, the woman that would be Arthur Pendragon’s demise. Instead of bringing any of that up, he nodded.

‘She could be quite a powerful sorceress.’ With practice and guidance.

‘Can… can you show me something? With Magic?’ He was about to deny her the request. The last person to ask for his Magic had used it against him, his own gift to kill those that weren’t up to the standard the Lady expected. But Guinevere looked so hopeful, hands clasped together and her eyes wide.

He clenched his fist, focused his eyes onto his fingers as he slowly unravelled them. The butterfly took to the sky with ease, tiny blue wings fluttering as it glowed in the low-lighting. The gasp was one of shock, Gwen reaching to it as it landed in her hair, solidifying into a clip.

She rushed to the glass to see her reflection, touched the clip lightly.

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It’ll glow in the dark. And, when you wish for it to fly, you need only take it from your hair.’ He rose from the seat, tucked the book under his arm and walked towards the door, surprised when a hand closed around his wrist.

He flinched, but resisted the urge to snap his arm away from her touch. When he looked to her expression, he was surprised by the unhidden adoration on her face.

‘Thank you, Merlin.’ She kissed his cheek, lips soft against his skin, and he wondered why they seemed so familiar.


	7. Clotpole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's becoming more forwards in his attempts to integrate with the group

‘Are… are you busy?’ Merlin hesitated on the doorway, the Court Physician turning quickly to face him. A mixture of emotions crossed his face, ones the Warlock didn’t even pretend to understand. He waited patiently, watched as the man placed down whatever concoction he had been making.

‘Not at all. What can I do for you?’ He was already regretting this, his head ached just staring at the man. Gaius, he knew his name, but using it seemed a step too far.

‘I was wondering if you’d be able to take my stitches out? I would do it myself, but I’m not allowed sharp objects.’ He could have asked Percival, but the Knight would have worried over him. This was a professional, and he could trust him to act appropriately.

‘Take a seat.’ The man gestured to the bench, Merlin walking across and settling down on it. Gaius began to prepare things, clean utensils for cutting the stitches, a salve to put over the top. His actions spoke of years of experience.

‘Do you want anything for the pain?’ For stitches? Merlin could have laughed.

‘No thank you.’ He hesitated on the hem of his shirt, knew that by taking it off, it would reveal a lot more than the cut he needed tending to. No, he pushed all thoughts of hiding away. This man had seen worse, he thought.

With his shirt discarded, he watched the physician study him. Although the bruises were fading, there were scars that gave away the extent to which he had been hurt.

After a moment of composing himself, the man stepped forwards. His hands didn’t tremble, simple snips to remove the stitching where the wound had begun to heal. It was quite an impressive wound, one that he’d have forever.

‘Can I ask how this happened?’ Just like Percival, the man wanted answers Merlin wasn’t sure he could give. He didn’t know why they cared so much, why they wanted to know what had happened during his time with the woman.

‘A dagger to the chest.’

‘During combat?’ He’d never have let them get that close.

‘No. Punishment for disobeying.’ Offering out the second part was foolish, he watched the older man calculating how best to ask the next question.

‘What was the order?’

‘To kill a girl. A sorcerer.’ He amended, huffing when the last stitch was removed. Gaius quickly applied a soothing lotion, before beginning to bandage the wound. When his hand brushed over Merlin’s hip, the Warlock snatched himself out of the way.

‘I can finish it.’ He didn’t want to be that close to anybody, let alone someone he couldn’t remember. The Physician didn’t say anything, watched as Merlin finished wrapping the wound and then turned for his shirt. A mistake, showing the marks on his back, but the silence remained.

‘Thank you.’

**

Percival watched as Gwen showed them all the butterfly in her hair, the one that fluttered through the sky before returning to her head. They were supposed to be training, but when Gwen had come running across, that had stopped in favour of admiring the Magic.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Elyan agreed, the maid beaming and reaching to touch the clip. He’d never seen Magic so incredible, wondered what else Merlin could do.

‘I’m going to go and show Lady Morgana.’ Guinevere was off as quickly as she had arrived, a flurry of skirts and bright smiles, the group watching her head back towards the Castle.

‘You didn’t replace the band.’ The King remarked, although he didn’t seem angry. Truthfully, Percival hadn't been able to return it. Every time he thought about doing so, it seemed wrong. Like a betrayal.

‘He isn’t a threat.’ Percival snapped, then realised he was speaking to the King, and softened his expression.

They were interrupted by Merlin, who was wandering across the grass with a frown on his face. Deep-set, eyes burning with annoyance and his lips drawn into a tight smile.

‘You look like someone stamped on your grave.’ He joked to his friend, watched proudly as Merlin’s frown turned into a brief smile.

‘Funny.’

‘What’s up?’ Did Merlin even realise he had just walked up to them willingly? The others were keeping quiet, determined not to shatter the peaceful moment.

‘I met an annoying idiot called George.’ The King’s new manservant? Percival felt hope flutter in his chest, watched Arthur’s eyes widen.

‘You never got along with him.’ Elyan joined the conversation, and Merlin shrugged.

‘He’s a suck-up.’

‘But the King’s manservant.’ Percival dared to bring up the title, caught the brief look of confusion on Merlin’s face. Was he remembering?

‘Who’d want to do that?’ His tone was teasing, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes filled with mischief.

‘It’s an honourable position.’ Arthur finally spoke, unable to stop himself, and Percival waited for the moment Merlin ran.

‘You say that because you’re the King. How can you find brass jokes amusing?’

‘George has never failed to complete a task.’ Arthur shot back, not directly answering the question.

‘So you do find him boring.’ Merlin looked smug, and the King rose his eyebrows.

‘You have nerve, daring to presume my thoughts.’ It wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like the banter that usually came between them.

‘You’re right, to have thoughts you have to have a brain.’ Arthur looked shocked, Merlin looked proud, and Gwaine burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, Merlin.’ Fond, a smile on the King’s face that hadn't been seen since Merlin’s disappearance. The servant rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath that was too quiet to hear, so Arthur dared him to repeat it.

‘I called you a clotpole, Sire.’ The title was said sarcastically, but the moment it slipped out, Merlin’s eyes went very wide. Percival took a half-step forwards, ready to intervene if necessary, but he didn’t have to. Merlin was relaxing again, even daring to smile.

‘I should leave you to training. What do you want for dinner tonight?’ He looked across to Percival, who was still shocked from what had happened moments before. When the Knight didn’t answer the question immediately, Merlin chuckled.

‘Never mind. I’ll figure it out.’ And with that, he was walking back across the field.

**

Gwen gasped as she bumped into Merlin, who quickly righted himself and bent to pick up the blankets she had dropped. He carefully placed them back into her arms, then smiled.

‘Are you okay, Guinevere?’ Not Gwen, not quite correct, but it was getting there.

‘Sorry, just startled. What have you got there?’ She looked at the basket, and Merlin pulled back the cover to reveal a selection of foods.

‘Figured I’d cook dinner for Percival, to say thanks for putting up with me.’ It was a lovely idea! Gwen smiled warmly, then watched as his gaze narrowed.

‘Would you like to join us? And Sir Elyan, of course.’ A perfect chance to help Merlin remember yet more about them, Gwen thought.

‘We’d love to! You can always use our home to prepare the food, if it would be easier.’ She listened to him agree, wondered how best to help Merlin remember more of their memories together.

The dinner would be perfect.


	8. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Sefa, and Merlin has to make a promise to keep her with him

Percival could almost believe it was the old Merlin. He laughed and joked with Gwen, teased Elyan as they ate their dinner. He looked happy, a cheeky grin like the one that used to be permanent on his face, and Percival wanted to keep it there. The food was amazing, Merlin’s cooking hadn't changed one bit, even if it was now aided by a quick flash of golden in his eyes.

‘And the time Elyan tumbled from his horse!’ He laughed harder, watched Merlin try and piece together the puzzle. Elyan ducked his head away from the table, glaring at his sister as he did so, before the moment was broken.

Camelot’s warning bell. Percival and Elyan rose at the same time, it was ingrained into their instincts as a Knight.

‘Sister,’

‘I’ll keep her safe. Go.’ Merlin guided, Percival briefly pausing to smile at him. With that done, he reached for his sword and ran from the door.

**

Arthur grimaced, held a hand firmly to his side as he slumped back against the throne. Morgana’s eyes tracked the movement, then looked back to the apprehended people. A girl, with Gwaine’s sword to her neck. A man, being restrained by Percival. The two attackers had managed to kill eight people between them, including a crossbow bolt that had struck him in the side.

‘What were you hoping to achieve?’

‘We aren’t here for you. We’re here to kill the sorcerer.’ Arthur glanced to his sister, but she just looked confused.

‘Not that one.’ The man added. The King halted, they were here for Merlin?

‘You’ve killed eight of our men.’ The girl winced, actually looked hurt by the fact.

‘We didn’t mean.’

‘Silence, Sefa.’ The man snapped, and Percival shoved him the ground. The Knight had become very protective over Merlin, ever since he’d been assigned to the case.

‘Sefa? That’s your name?’ Morgana came walking across, bent down to smile at her. The girl looked terrified, and Arthur could understand. She was scary at the best of times.

‘Yes, milady.’

‘Be quiet S…’ The man was cut off when Percival’s boot pressed into his back, hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Sefa winced, but looked up to Morgana despite the man’s warning.

‘And you were here to kill Merlin? On whose orders?’ The girl paused, before the door opened once more.

Merlin.

**

He didn’t bother bowing to the King, there wasn’t much point. Sefa looked awful, a bruise that was swelling her eye shut, and she had been crying. Her father was pinned to the floor, good, Merlin disliked him intensely.

‘I thought you were keeping Gwen safe?’ Percival questioned, while Merlin shrugged.

‘I put her in a dome of Magic, impenetrable.’ Gwen had been most annoyed, had assured him that she could take care of herself. He didn’t doubt it, a vague memory of Gwen holding a sword, of an arm around his shoulder when he was crying.

‘At ease, Sir Gwaine. Sefa isn’t a risk.’ He crouched down in front of the girl, healed the swelling around her eye with a brief touch. She let her eyes flutter shut, turned into his palm as he soothed the ache.

‘She killed three men. HE,’ Spat out, aggressive, ‘killed a further five.’ Eight in total, when they were just coming for him. Sefa was crying again, bowing her head in shame.

‘She was tortured into submission.’ Merlin told the King, watched as his eyes widened. Merlin reached for her arm, rose it up and moved the sleeve out of the way, revealing the marks that the cuffs had left.

‘And him?’

‘Guilty.’ Sefa shot him a pleading look, a quick end to the man that had sold her out to the Lady. Merlin looked up to Percival, watched as the Knight got the hint.

The sword moved with ease, a choked gasp from the man on the floor, before he fell silent. Merlin helped Sefa slowly rise to her feet, the dress bloody and stuck to her form.

‘How do we know we can trust her?’ Arthur snapped impatiently, while Merlin considered the question.

‘If you allow Guinevere to assist, then we can show proof of her fragile state.’

**

Gwen watched carefully, kept her hand on the sword at all times. Nobody had been to eager to leave her alone with Merlin and Sefa, hence why Gaius was also with them. He kept his back turned as Merlin helped the girl from her dress, Gwen feeling her stomach tighten at the sight.

She was thin. Each rib protruded from the skin, pasty and white. Bruising along her torso, marks that Gwen presumed to be made by a belt.

The way she spoke to Merlin, the way she clutched at him, it made Gwen feel like she was intruding. They kept their heads close together, hushed whispers exchanged as Merlin helped her bathe.

Gwen left the room, found the corridor filled with the Knights, Lady Morgana and the King.

‘She looks like she’s lucky to be alive.’ Gwen admitted, watched Arthur run a hand through his hair.

‘We need to know who the threat is. What they want.’ The door opened again, Merlin’s head poking out.

‘Could she stay with me for the night? I promise we’ll explain everything in the morning, but she needs rest.’ All heads turned to Arthur, waiting for his judgement on the matter. The King looked torn, but eventually inclined his head.

‘On your head be it.’ Merlin beamed, despite the warning.

‘Thank you. Oh, I almost forgot,’ He paused, stepping out from behind the door and crossing to Arthur’s side, reached out for the blood-stained shirt. Gwen watched as his hand glowed for the briefest of moments, Arthur shuddering but the stain disappearing.

‘There you go, should be all healed.’ And with that, Merlin returned back towards the tortured girl.

**

Sefa curled up closer, tucked her legs between his, nuzzled under his chin. They were in his old room, the one that he had apparently belonged to before meeting the Lady. The two of them were buried under a blanket, the room cold but not quite enough to remind them of the cell they had shared.

‘She’ll find us.’ The girl murmured, and Merlin tried to stop his heart from breaking. She was four years his younger, still a child in his eyes. Her father had owed a debt, and she had paid the price of it.

‘I won’t let her hurt you.’ Merlin promised, ran fingers through her dark hair. He was still caught up on the fact that he’d thought of the King using his first name, had healed him and felt his heart speed up.

He knew Arthur Pendragon. He had been expecting the hard muscle, the stressed blue eyes that betrayed his stony expression. Merlin wondered how close they had been, thought back to the manservant of the King, George.

‘The Lady Morgana isn’t what I expected.’ Yet further proof that Merlin had been here before. Morgana felt familiar, her Magic wasn’t a shock. Her determination and protective attitude were things that made him smile. From what the Lady had told him, she shouldn’t be like that.

‘Sefa, do you remember me before… before?’ The girl had been by his side from the first day into the darkness, a constant no matter what happened.

‘By the time I knew you, Merlin, you were already what she had made you.’ But the question was, had she used Magic to do such a thing? Could he reverse whatever the Lady had done, and use it to bring back his memories?

‘Sleep. I’ll keep watch.’ He promised, although he didn’t really think the Court Physician would hurt either of them. Sefa hummed, let a hand move under his shirt to rest over his heart.

**

_‘He just winds me up.’ Merlin grumbled, sliding onto the bench and looking across at Gaius. His mentor just looked amused, continued to grind the herbs up as Merlin rattled on about how annoying Arthur was. How annoying all Knights were, and how he wanted them to all vanish so he never had to bother with them again._

_‘Even Sir Gwaine?’ Gaius asked nonchalantly, Merlin fighting the blush that rose to his cheeks._

_‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gaius. Are you sure your old age isn’t making you see things?’ He teased, watched as his Uncle threw him a scowl, but with a fond smile._

_‘It must be. A good thing I still remember that you need to clean the leech tank out.’ Betrayed, Merlin huffed but rolled his sleeves up anyway._

_‘I hate you.’ The older man just chuckled, turning away as Merlin approached the dreaded creatures._

_‘I’m sure you do, my boy.’_


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sefa admits some stuff, while Merlin pieces things together silently. 
> 
> Also, Hi Morgause!

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, looked around the Round Table and to the people Arthur had summoned. The King sat with Morgana on one side, Gwen on the other, and the Knights around them. Gaius was also at the table, and Merlin was surprised by the fact that there was a chair already positioned for him. An extra one was brought for Sefa, who perched down and looked to Lady Morgana fearfully.

‘You said you would explain.’ Arthur began, and Sefa nodded.

‘We were both in captivity together. By the time I met Merlin, he was already… he’d forgotten Camelot.’ Merlin didn’t bother adding anything to that statement, he still wasn’t too comfortable with all of the group in one place.

‘Who was in charge?’ Gwen asked gently, a sympathetic smile on her face. It worked, Sefa was emboldened by her concern, shook away her nerves and sat straighter.

‘The Lady Morgause. High Priestess of the Old Religion.’ Morgana went pale, Merlin taking note of the fact. Arthur’s face became tense, a frown forming.

‘And she had help?’

‘Mostly from the Kingdom of Escetir. People owed her debts, and she used her connections to find young sorcerers.’ King Cenred had been played by the Lady, she had managed to seduce him and capture his connections using little more than a bright smile and her sharp tongue.

‘How did they get you?’

‘My Father owed Lady Morgause a debt.’ Her hand began to shake slightly, where they were clasped together on her lap. Merlin reached across and took one, linked their fingers together in one smooth movement.

‘Are the two of you…’ Gwen trailed off, glancing between them, and Sefa laughed.

‘No, Gods no. We just grew close, being caged up together.’

‘What… is she planning something?’ Morgana asked hesitantly.

‘The intention was for Merlin to kill the King, but I guess you broke through that.’ Sefa eyed him up curiously, no doubt wondering the same thing that he was. Why hadn't it worked? Had Morgause known that her hold would slip?

‘The headaches are still there. But nothing I can’t control.’ He agreed, the girl looking thoughtfully towards the group, then back to him.

‘We need to know where this all happened. How many people, the best ways to get at them, if we’re to win.’ Arthur pointed out, Merlin’s gut tightening. He didn’t want to think of it at all, didn’t want to remember what had happened in that place.

‘I offer out my memories. I have nothing to hide.’ Sefa said firmly, determined to pave a new future for herself. Merlin wasn’t sure he could do the same, but he admired her strength.

‘Is it a spell?’ Morgana asked, and Merlin was the one to finally answer the group.

‘I can perform it. You’ll see anything related to the place, or the people.’

**

Arthur watched as Merlin paced back and forth, his manservant looking slightly tense. Sefa was seated on a chair in the middle of the room, with Gwen holding her hand and attempting to soothe her. It was almost time for the spell, the one where Sefa’s head would be cracked open.

‘Are you okay?’ The King dared to ask, watched Merlin halt in his tracks. The manservant looked up to him, and the weirdest thing happened. It was almost like the old Merlin, a cheeky grin crossing his face.

‘Protecting your arse as normal, Sire.’ Arthur didn’t want to admit how happy he felt hearing Merlin speak like that.

‘Watch how you speak to your King, Merlin.’ He teased, Merlin’s eyes lighting up.

‘You’re a prat.’ Morgana entered the room, followed by the Knights.

Gwaine looked longingly in Merlin’s direction, but just as it had been before, Merlin was blind to such a thing. Arthur almost felt bad, the Knight didn’t deserve that, no matter how annoying he was.

‘Are we all ready?’ Nods from around the room, Sefa taking a deep breath and forcing a smile to her face. Arthur still wasn’t sure if he liked the girl, but it was clear that Merlin was protective of her.

‘Whatever you see, I am sorry. Lady Morgause can be terrifying.’ Sefa whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. Morgana rushed to her side, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried to comfort her, Gwen doing the same.

‘You’re okay with me having Magic?’ Merlin asked quietly, looking across at Arthur. The King froze, honestly, it hadn't ever gone through his mind as a bad thing. Merlin had been hurt, and that had been his main priority. Now, the question was brought up, and Arthur thought about it.

‘That implies you remember me not knowing before.’ It wasn’t the first time that he wondered how much Merlin remembered of his life before he went missing. Like now, the sorcerer cocked his head slightly.

‘You looked shocked when the band was clamped around me. Plus, I distinctly remember hiding it from you. Just… just talking about it is weird.’ Merlin had lied to him for so long, but he could be angry about that later.

‘You’ve never been ordinary.’ The Warlock sniggered, then went silent when Gwaine walked across. The Knight moved past to the window, took a seat and looked away from the two of them.

‘Stop with the moping. If you don’t speak to him soon, I’m going to lock the two of you in a room together.’ Arthur was surprised at the blush that crossed his face, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Huh, some things didn’t change.

‘Whenever you’re ready, Merlin.’ Arthur watched the sorcerer turn back to Sefa, before he nodded.

He almost managed to contain his flinch when the sorcerer’s eyes flashed golden.

**

Morgause sat back on the throne, looked out of the Dark Tower and across the sands. She’d lost a lot of good men recently, all in an attempt to reclaim her best weapon.

When she’d captured Emrys, she hadn't actually expected him to be the prophesised Warlock. That had just been a benefit, but now she realised it was more of a burden. Rather than being easy to break, he was fighting against her. She was expecting the King’s head on a spike by now, Merlin should have done his job.

He hadn't, which led her to the conclusion that he had broken free from her spell. The mind was such a fragile thing, trying to associate their names with pain had been a plan that had taken time.

Now, however, she had another idea. She looked to the Knight that had trained the Warlock, smiled coldly at him.

‘Callum, I want you to head to Camelot. A tournament is coming up, and you’re to compete. Find Merlin, and remind him exactly why he needs to kill the King.’ The Knight bowed smoothly, a small smile on his face. She knew that he had enjoyed the task she’d set him, the job of torturing the poor man.


	10. Showing the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sefa's memories, and Merlin being a lil cutie

_Sefa grunted, knees hitting the stone floor. The woman in front was seated on the throne, dressed in a gown of white and blue, hair loose around her shoulders. She would have been pretty, had the Lady not had a cold expression and a dagger in hand._

_‘Sefa, what do you think of your new cell mate?’ Her own father stood by Morgause’s side, unflinching even as the manacles dug into her wrists. Painful, they were almost bleeding._

_‘He doesn’t even remember his own name.’ She hissed, staring at the Sorceress angrily. The woman rose, the knife looking very threatening all of a sudden._

_‘Merlin’s my little toy. And unless you want to end up like him…’ The knife hovered dangerously close to her skin, Sefa looking past the woman to her own father. Nothing, not even the slightest worry that she was close to having her throat slit._

_‘What do you want?’_

_‘My sister, back by my side. The King of Camelot dead. This place,’ She waved a hand around the darkened room, ‘to be burnt down and a nice place to live.’_

_Sefa’s attention was diverted again, to the Knight in the room. Callum, if she remembered his name correctly._

_‘My Lady, with respect, should we not be pushing forwards with the plan?’ Morgause hummed in agreement, crouched down and gripped Sefa’s chin._

_‘Just a scratch. Enough to see what happens.’ The blade hit her shoulder, and Sefa fought the urge to cry out. True to her word, it was barely even a nick, but it still ached._

_‘Take her back.’_

_Callum wasn’t friendly, one hand dragging her by her hair, the other holding her arm. Sefa let her feet drag slightly, looking around the Tower and glancing out of one of the windows. Sand, as far as the eye could see. The Perilous Lands._

_‘Walk.’ Callum grunted out, Sefa struggling in his hold. It ended with her being slammed into the wall, an arm twisted behind her back._

_‘If you don’t stop, I’ll ask for a second bedwarmer.’ That had her halting, she knew what happened when Merlin was snatched from their cell, but she wasn’t brave enough…_

_‘That’s what I thought.’_

_**_

_Sefa watched as Merlin tended to the cut, his shaking hands actually doing wonders on the wound. Their cell wasn’t big, it had just about enough space for the bed that they shared, a blanket that didn’t cover both of them. Her eyes drifted to the collar around Merlin’s neck, the one that kept his Magic at bay._

_‘Merlin...’_

_‘You know I hate that name.’ He didn’t hate it, he just was in pain when it was spoken._

_‘Emrys, you don’t have to...’ That was cut off by her gasping, her shoulder aching._

_‘I’ll see if I can get you some medicine.’ She didn’t want to know how, knew that there were nicer meals on some days, especially when Merlin became quieter._

_‘You don’t need to. Callum won’t...’_

_‘It’ll be fine, Sefa.’ She knew he was lying, could see the fear in his eyes as he settled back against the wall._

_**_

_‘Father…’_

_‘If we do this, if we help Morgause, we’ll be by her side when she takes the throne.’ Sefa didn’t understand why he was so loyal to a woman that would kill them without blinking. But she ached so badly, her body hurt from all the times that Callum or one of the others had gotten angry with her._

_‘Okay. Say I’m with you, how does this work?’ She’d never betray Merlin, not when he was the only one that looked after her._

_‘We wait for her Ladyship to be finished with the boy. Once the King is dead, Morgause will chain Emrys down in the Lake, and will give Morgana the choice.’ Sefa blinked, she’d heard that her Ladyship wanted Morgana by her side._

_‘Merlin said that Morgana…’_

_‘Merlin doesn’t even remember her anymore. Anything he said, all of it is gone.’ Sefa couldn’t believe that, refused to think that Merlin had forgotten them entirely._

_‘Where is he?’ Her father rose up, sighing as he turned towards the door._

_‘Once the boy is gone, you’ll see sense.’_

_‘Where IS HE?!’ She shrieked, rattled the chains and tried to break free of them. Her father just walked out of the cell, pausing at the door._

_‘Getting ready to leave the Tower.’_

_**_

Merlin stumbled back, the spell shattering around them as Sefa gasped for air. Gwen was still holding her, trying to comfort the girl. He knew Sefa had been hurt, he knew that she had been tortured just as he had been. It didn’t mean he wanted to see it.

‘Hey.’ An arm was wrapping around him, Percival’s eyes filled with concern. He briefly leant into the touch, let the Knight ground him, before he went across to Sefa’s side. She as crying, silent tears streaking down her cheeks as she shuddered back and forth. He let his thumbs brush the tears away, bending to press a kiss to her forehead.

‘Easy, you’re safe now.’ He promised, didn’t flinch when her hands clutched at his shoulders, as her nails dug into his skin as she sobbed. She was a child, one that had lost so much, and Merlin felt bad for her.

Standing in Morgana’s Chambers, when he really needed to get her somewhere safe, Merlin rose up. He pressed a hand to her forehead, muttered the spell under his breath and watched as her eyes widened, before sleep took over.

Catching her wasn’t difficult, he scooped her up and settled the weight in his arms, before glancing briefly to Percival.

‘I’m taking her back to my… to the room.’ His room? He was still so unsure about the word, ignored everyone’s curious glances and sad expressions as he walked out.

**

‘Then we kill her.’

‘But without Merlin, we’re at a disadvantage.’ Morgana pointed out, and Arthur fell still. Watching what Sefa had gone through, it had affected all of them. As had the knowledge that Merlin had been…

‘Sire? Might I suggest that our priority is protecting Camelot. If we can get Merlin back on our side, firmly,’ Gaius halted when the door swung open, Merlin’s head poking around the door. The servant looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and a frown that looked permanent.

‘How is she?’ Gwen asked, already fond of the girl.

‘Sleeping. She’ll be alright after some rest.’ He moved to Percival’s side, the Knight dragging a chair out for him. Almost like it had been before, the Round Table assembled.

‘We’re planning our next move.’ Morgana explained to him, and Merlin nodded.

‘The tournament. Morgause will send somebody to infiltrate Camelot, it’s the easiest point of access.’ Arthur had thought that as well, the group offering different suggestions on how to deal with that. Some suggested cancelling it, but Arthur shook his head.

‘That would alert them to our knowledge. If we continue, we can keep an eye out for Magic.’

‘And who keeps us all safe?’ Morgana pointed out, Arthur shrugging.

‘You’ve got Magic. We’ve got swords.’

‘And if the Knight challenges you? Cheats?’ Morgana’s concern was touching, but everyone was surprised when Merlin spoke up instead.

‘Then I’ll deal with him.’

‘You’d protect me?’ Arthur questions, saw a flash of determination that was similar to the old-Merlin. Did he even realise what he was saying?

‘Isn’t that my job, as your manservant?’ Arthur knew his mouth had dropped open, shock at Merlin remembering. The sorcerer just chuckled, rising back out of the chair.

‘Don’t take it personally, I couldn’t stand George for a moment longer.’


	11. Stop Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin goes to see Gwaine, and Percival's being protective

Merlin hesitated, before knocking on the door. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here, but he knew that his mind wouldn’t rest a moment longer with the unknown hanging between them. It was driving Sefa mad, to the point where he’d been kicked out of his own bed to wander the Castle corridors at night, thinking about the upcoming tournament and the risks it posed to those he needed to protect.

The door swung open, the faint light from the fire illuminating the Knight, who looked startled.

‘Merlin?’

‘I know it’s late, sorry. I just… couldn’t sleep?’ Maybe he’d been mistaken. For everything he was starting to remember, maybe they hadn't quite been this close.

Gwaine smirked, let the door fall open and gestured for him to come in.

The room was familiar, the bed messy and clothes strew about, his armour and sword propped up to one side. The more he looked around, the more his mind settled back down, knowing that this was somewhere he’d been before.

‘How much do you remember?’ Gwaine asked quietly, the door shut but strangely not feeling like he was being locked in. The Warlock glanced to the dwindling fire, let his Magic rush across to it and stoke it back up, better lighting the room.

‘Not a lot. I just know that it hurts the most, to look at you.’ He accompanied the sentence by studying the Knight, taking in the perfectly wind-swept hair and the stubble, down to his bare feet on the stones.

‘What can I say, I’m a heartbreaker.’ Gwaine joked, and that had him smiling. He had a feeling this was very typical of them, sidestepping around their attraction and pretending it was nothing more than a joke.

‘Did you break mine?’ Merlin asked curiously, and the Knight’s shock was amusing.

‘No! I… no, we weren’t… you were always different.’ The Warlock caught flashes of memory, of Gwaine’s bright-eyed gaze staring as he performed Magic, of the two of them in Taverns and spending the King’s money. Friendship, bordering on something that he couldn’t quite explain.

Merlin had never wanted to be sure of anything, not since he got to Camelot. Now, he hated the memories he couldn’t find, wanted to remember every inch of his time with the Knight in front.

He offered out his hand, like he’d seen in one of the memories, closed his fist and concentrated. It didn’t take much energy, to create the tiny blue butterfly, to watch it take to the sky like he’d done with Gwen.

‘You remember that?’ Gwaine whispered, staring at him in awe.

‘Yes. Bits and pieces, enough to know we were never quite friends.’ That made the Knight smug, a proud smile that he would have laughed at, was he not determined to make it stay there.

‘We didn’t cross that boundary, though.’ Gwaine admitted, and Merlin knew that had been his decision. Afraid of what the future held, not wanting to risk everything just because he had let his heart fall for a Knight of Camelot.

‘I’m glad we didn’t.’ That hurt him, the Knight wincing, but Merlin cutting him off before he could doubt it.

‘I’d want to remember that.’ Merlin swallowed as Gwaine took a step towards him, his eyes studying the Warlock and waiting for something.

‘Stop me.’ Gwaine muttered, but Merlin had no desire to ever do that. In fact, he reached out and gripped Gwaine’s sleep-shirt, tugged him closer until they were pressed flush. This wasn’t familiar, untrodden territory, and Merlin’s heart raced. Magic burnt under his skin, demanding that he study every inch of the Knight in front.

Gwaine was watching him, Merlin meeting his gaze as their lips brushed lightly, not daring to kiss.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ The Knight whispered, and Merlin had to agree. But with the ache in his head gone for the first time since he’d reached Camelot, Merlin was feeling a little risky.

‘When do we ever follow the rules?’ Finally, pressure against his lips in the sweetest way, and Merlin let his eyes shut. It was Gwaine’s hands that ran to his waist, slid around smoothly and held them together. Teeth at his lower lip, demanding entrance, Merlin willingly letting his lips part and trying to focus on the fact that his heart had never felt happier.

When Gwaine pulled back from him, he was panting lightly. Merlin rested their foreheads together, tried to figure out the jumble of thoughts that had come with the kiss.

‘You always surprise me, Merls.’ The nickname had Merlin laughing softly, stealing one more quick kiss.

‘One of my many charms.’

**

Arthur watched as his manservant came striding into the room, throwing open the curtains with such vigour that Arthur winced. The sunlight came streaming in, while the King took the time to watch as Merlin went for his wardrobe.

‘Did you bully George again?’ He asked, knowing that his temporary manservant would not have been happy that Merlin wanted his job back.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sire. I’m nothing but friendly.’ That had him laughing, rising from the bed and padding across to his breakfast. It was mostly complete, although he could tell that there was a missing rash of bacon.

‘Merlin.’

‘Yes Arthur?’ Oh, how good it felt to have Merlin saying his name! He never knew how much he’d missed it, until Merlin said it with such ease.

‘Where’s all my bacon?’ He didn’t need to turn to know that Merlin was smirking at him, pretending to be all innocent and confused.

‘On the plate, Sire.’

‘Any reason why my breakfast is smaller than it should be?’ He realised after the sentence that he’d walked right into the trap, Merlin appearing from behind the wardrobe door with the brightest smile.

‘Just preserving your belt!’

**

Percival ruffled Merlin’s hair, the manservant pouting and trying to sort it out, before Arthur came walking across the grounds. It was time for training, and for once, they were all on time. The Knight glanced to Merlin, found the Warlock side-eyeing Gwaine in a very obvious fashion. Percival would have to speak to Gwaine, to tell him that he better not have any ideas about hurting Merlin.

He was protective of his new little brother, and from the way Merlin looked up to him, he could tell that the sorcerer wasn’t object to the change in relationship.

‘Right! Partner up, I want to see a better attitude than yesterday.’ Nobody pointed out that yesterday they were all terrified of what the memories might show them. Before he could escape, Percival chose Gwaine as his partner. They walked to give the others some space, Gwaine drawing his sword while Percival narrowed his gaze.

‘If you hurt him…’

‘Yes yes, I get it. You’ll slice me to pieces.’ Gwaine joked, but his eyes softened the moment Merlin walked past.

‘I won’t need to. Merlin can defend himself.’ Percival stated proudly.

‘I won’t hurt him.’ Gwaine’s tone changed, sincerity dripping from it, and Percival was tempted to believe him. Their attention was torn to where Merlin had been partnered with Leon, Percival watching in shock as the Warlock managed to hold his own against one of Camelot’s finest Knights.

Okay, so there was less training going on, and more watching as Merlin successfully managed to fight back against Leon. Even Arthur looked shocked, the sound of clashing swords as the two fought with excellent form. What Merlin lacked in finesse, he made up for with stamina, and Leon actually looked like he was trying.

‘That’s hot.’ Gwaine muttered quietly, and Percival whacked him on the arm.


	12. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tournament is upon us

‘That’s him!’ Gwen whispered, whacking her brother on the arm in a mixture of terror and excitement. Elyan grunted, although he followed her gaze to the line-up of Knights that were going to compete in the tournament. Arthur was in the box, with Lady Morgana by his side, and he hadn't yet caught sight of the Knight from Escetir.

Merlin was nowhere to be seen, which was probably a bad thing. Percival was already off, his protectiveness over the sorcerer knew no bounds, and Elyan rested a hand to the pommel of his sword. Tempted to just run the man through, but that wasn’t the objective.

‘Can I kill him?’ Gwaine asked, wearing an expression of unmasked anger. It was actually quite scary, terrifying almost.

‘Not yet. We need to know what he wants.’ Sir Leon pointed out. Even so, he was also reaching for his sword. None of them wanted Merlin hurt, and with the Knight so close to them, it would be easy to kill him.

‘And if his plan is to hurt Merlin?’ Lancelot pointed out, while the Knights all bowed to the King’s box.

‘Then we kill him.’ Leon stated with satisfaction, and the others nodded.

**

Merlin paced back and forth, his Magic wanting to lash out and attack all those around. Percival aside, his Magic wasn’t that stupid. The Knight was standing at the entrance to the tent, just watching as he lost all coordination of his powers.

‘Merlin…’

‘He’s just standing there! Acting all… innocent.’ He snarled out the word, his chest tightening at the thought of Callum being so close to the King. Of being so close to Sefa, who would be standing in the royal box, behind Lady Morgana.

‘It’ll be alright. We have your back.’ The words did comfort him, he didn’t even tense when Percival rested a hand on his shoulder. Comforting him, when Merlin didn’t deserve it. He turned into the contact, wrapped arms around the Knight and let his head rest to the man’s chest.

‘I hate this.’ He mumbled against the armour.

‘I know. But you don’t have to do this alone.’ Merlin was about to point out that he knew that. To thank the Knight for all that he had done, but the tent was opening, and Elyan was poking his head around the edge of it.

‘Sorry to disturb, but you might want to see this.’ Merlin stepped out of Percival’s embrace, followed Elyan out of the red tent and to the sandy arena. He spotted Arthur, dressed in his armour with his sword at hand, Lady Morgana by his side. Most of the Knights had retreated to their tents, but Sir Callum was still in the arena. Worse, he had spotted Sefa, eyes widening comically as he went to move towards her.

She looked terrified. The other Knights were closing in around her carefully, Gwen with them, but Merlin was quicker.

‘Sir Callum.’ The Knight halted, very slowly turning to look at Merlin. He looked the same as he had in the Tower, eyes that wandered down his frame quickly before returning back to his face.

‘Now this is a surprise.’ He drawled, Merlin more than aware that quite a few people were watching him. That Percival was edging closer, wanting to protect him.

‘Why bother with the pretence of the tournament? Why come here?’ The Knight glanced behind him, presumably to where Percival was, before a grin spread across his face.

‘Lady Morgause wanted to remind you of your duties, Merlin.’ It took him a moment to understand what was happening. His Magic was sinking low, hiding where it couldn’t be drawn to the surface, while his mind naturally began to shut down. Merlin had spent so long with the Knight, that he knew what would happen if he tried to fight, so his body was making the decision for him.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel as brave. He regretted moving out, felt his shoulders slump and his heartrate pick up.

‘What does she want me to do?’ He asked quietly, the words tasting foul on his tongue. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t stand between the two of them. He thought he was ready to face Morgause, to choose Camelot over her. Then Callum stood there, and he forgot exactly why he was on the side that was bound to lose. Morgause was too powerful to beat, and if he tried, it would only be worse for himself.

‘Come and find me after the feast tonight. We have things to discuss.’ Sir Callum then straightened, before walking from the ring, leaving Merlin to eye up the footprints in the sand.

All those jumbled memories in the back of his head, all those things he couldn’t quite remember.

He wished they’d just vanish.

**

Sefa stood in the shadows, watched as Merlin served the King his dinner. The feast was loud, Knights laughing and joking, drink being spilled everywhere. She let her gaze drift to where Sir Callum was seated, draining yet another goblet of wine. Beady eyes travelled to Merlin, the Knight licking his lips, and Sefa watched as the man shuddered.

Merlin wasn’t okay. With the Knight this close, the training that he’d been given was starting to slip back in. She didn’t doubt that he’d try and get Merlin to ingest the drugs that he’d been on throughout his stay in the Tower, to help the spell take better affect. The thing that bothered her the most, however, was the fact that she was pretty sure Merlin would fall for it. The memories had to be hurting him, and it would be so easy to fall back.

She walked to the Knight’s side, the one that she knew she could trust, leaned forwards to fill his glass.

‘It’s a drug. It’s used to keep Merlin compliant. If he ingests it…’ She finished topping Sir Percival’s goblet up, stepped back respectfully and hoped she’d done enough. The Knight gave no outward appearance that she’d spoken to him, continued to laugh and joke with the others.

Callum suspected nothing. His gaze was solely focused on Merlin. The Warlock looked miserable, placed the jug down and fled from the room, unnoticed by most.

She could only hope he stayed strong for a little bit longer.

**

Merlin took a deep breath, let his chest burn and his eyes water as his body tried to fight. He didn’t need it to, just wanted to relax back, staring up to the dark sky until the pain in his head faded. With the ache gone, he smiled brightly, ran a hand through his hair as he dipped into the memories he had managed to remember. Images of Arthur and his destiny flicked through Merlin’s mind, not as painful as they had been back in the Tower.

‘A beautiful evening, is it not?’ She wasn’t really here. The thing with the spell, it made things happen that weren’t real. Hallucinations, a common side-effect of what he’d just done, but it didn’t stop Merlin from panicking.

‘You’re not real.’ He whispered as Lady Morgause turned to face him. She wore her armour, a sword by her side and her hair loose, dark eyes studying him intently.

‘Maybe not. But Callum is, and he knows what I request from you.’ To kill the King of Camelot, it was what he was supposed to do. But Merlin didn’t want to do that, he wanted to be free.

‘I’m not your puppet any longer.’ He snapped, and the High Priestess chuckled.

‘If that were true, you would not have taken the drug.’ Merlin glanced to his palm, to the tiny vial crushed by his fingers, the shards of glass embedded into his skin.

He was going insane.


	13. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival's protecting him again, don't worry

Percival was the one to find him. It was raining, getting progressively heavier as the evening shifted into night. Merlin had vanished for enough time that the Knight got worried, went in search of the Warlock. He found him in the Courtyard, slumped against one of the pillars, eyes shut and blood dribbling from his clenched hand.

It had been easy to alert the King, the Guards rushing to find him as Percival carried Merlin to Gaius. He didn’t bother knocking, barged down the door with Merlin in his arms, the Physician ordering him to put the boy on the table.

It was a mess of things being knocked away, Percival laying his friend down carefully. Gaius was there in an instant, batting the Knight away and looking to his hand. Glass, Percival realised, was embedded into his hand.

‘It smells like some sort of sleeping draught.’ The Physician stated, before Percival’s eyes dropped to Merlin’s shirt. The front of it was plastered to his shivering form, and he caught sight of the red forming.

‘Help me get him out of these.’ Gaius’s tone left no room for argument, Percival opting for cutting the fabric from his form. The neckerchief and tunic went first, the jacket hadn't been on his body. Then he sliced through the breeches, winced when he found out that the scars he’d seen on his torso did indeed stretch below the waistband. Gaius said nothing, was too focused on the wound on Merlin’s stomach, where the skin looked to have been clawed at.

The door opened in a rush, Gwen and Morgana both appearing at the same time. One froze in the doorway, staring at Merlin in horror, while the other focused on the fire and lit it with nothing more than a flash of gold.

‘Blankets and hot water.’ Morgana obeyed Gaius’s words, while Percival held Merlin’s hand steady as Gaius approached with tweezers.

‘The King’s on his way.’ Gwen stated, before she was taking a blanket and beginning to dry Merlin’s body.

‘Take the boots off. There were wounds on his feet.’ Percival added, figuring that they might as well check the servant over while he was unconscious. Gwen began to unlace them, Morgana bringing the hot water to the table.

When Gwen made a sound that was similar to being sick, Percival looked away from the man’s hand to his feet. The wounds he’d seen before were healing, although it still looked terrible. Toes that were bruised and the nails missing, but Gwen was staring at the soles of his feet.

‘They’re burns.’ She whispered, horrified, and Percival moved to look. Sure enough, the skin was marred beyond belief, and he wondered how much it had to hurt to stand on them while healing.

‘I’ll deal with those after I’ve done this.’

Arthur was the next in, halting as soon as he saw the mess that was Merlin’s body. Gwaine was by his side, eyes widening, and Percival felt the intense urge to shield the boy from them. He didn’t, just went back to standing by Merlin’s side, in case he woke.

‘Sefa told me that they used a drug. Something that helped keep him compliant.’ Percival stated, and Arthur told someone outside the room to fetch the girl.

‘The bruises run under his clothes.’ Gwaine muttered, looking like he was about to pass out, and Percival followed his gaze. The bruising around his hips, little indents into the skin that looked like finger-marks, followed a pattern under his remaining clothing. Percival swallowed, tried to remember that he had to be strong in this moment, to keep Merlin safe.

‘Done.’ His hand was bandaged, and Gaius moved on to his stomach. Morgana had a hand in Merlin’s hair, muttering things under her breath while golden eyes stayed focused on him, and Gwen had taken Merlin’s uninjured hand.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Surprisingly, it wasn’t Gwaine that said those words. Arthur was focused on Merlin’s body, staring at the wounds over him, and Percival could understand where the anger came from.

A moment later, Sefa came rushing in. She avoided all of them, Gwen stepping back so the girl could reach Merlin’s side. Her fingers were straight to his neck, pressing down on the pulse-point, before she relaxed.

‘It wasn’t a high dosage.’ The fact that she knew that just from taking Merlin’s pulse was terrifying.

‘What does it do?’ Gaius asked, moving down to Merlin’s feet. The girl grabbed one of the blankets to cover his form, looking hesitantly to the Physician.

‘It allows Morgause to perform her spell. Makes him more compliant, and susceptible to Callum’s torture.’ Merlin moved at that, his face twisting into something that resembled pain. Sefa looked around the room quickly, before rushing across and picking up… rope?

‘Trust me, it’s not a good idea to have him unbound when this wears off.’ Nobody stopped her from binding Merlin’s hands to the table, then she was back at his side and cradling his face. The Warlock’s eyes flicked open, pupils wide and his eyes unseeing.

‘Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.’ Sefa whispered, kept her hand on his skin.

‘Morgause…’

‘Isn’t here.’

‘Coming. She’s coming to kill me.’ Then he started laughing, a sound so manic that it broke Percival’s heart. He tugged at the bonds, thrashing in an attempt to break free, and Sefa looked up to Gaius.

‘Do you have anything to knock him out?’ Merlin snarled, like the man that they had first found, the one that tried to kill Arthur.

‘I’m not sure it would be wise to mix…’

Morgana interrupted, foreign words stating and Merlin falling limp.

‘Thank you, my Lady.’ Sefa settled down next to Merlin, evidently not planning on leaving, and Percival looked back to the King.

‘Do we kill him?’ Sir Callum, the Knight that had hurt Merlin.

‘If you do, it gives less chance of Morgause keeping Merlin alive. If the handler is dead, then the spell can’t continue.’

‘Then we keep Morgause and Merlin separate. I don’t want that… man anywhere near Merlin.’ Arthur’s voice was near-murderous, and Sefa looked up to him.

‘You should know, Sire, that Merlin never gave in. He told them nothing of Camelot.’

Percival thought that made the entire thing worse.

**

Gwaine drew back his sword, listened to the gurgling sound as the man tried to stop himself from bleeding out. Behind him, Arthur stood motionless, a perfect statue in the room. The Knight slumped down onto the sheets, the blood slowing spilling down onto the stone floor, but Gwaine didn’t feel regret. Not even for killing an unarmed man while he slept, not when he’d seen what the bastard had done to Merlin.

‘I’ll have Leon and Elyan take the body out to burn.’ The Princess finally spoke, and Gwaine turned to look at him. Never before had they been on the same page as often as they were now.

‘And when Morgause comes?’ Gwaine asked, sheathing his sword and keeping his voice quiet. The last thing they needed was others getting involved in this mess.

‘Keep Merlin safe. I’ve got Morgana and Geoffrey looking for spells to defeat the… Witch.’ Gwaine grunted an affirmative, stepped away from the spreading blood and looked to the King. He looked exhausted, far older than he actually was, and Gwaine reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

‘He’ll be alright.’

‘I just hope we’ve done the right thing.’ Arthur stated solemnly, while Gwaine thought back to Merlin.

This had to be the right thing.


	14. Morgause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big bad witch is here my dudes

Arthur sat on his throne, looking to those that had gathered. The Round Table looked solemn, none of them quite sure how to respond to everything that had happened over the past couple of days. So, when George had come to his Chambers and told him that Leon had ordered a meeting, he wasn’t surprised. Okay, the surprising thing was that Leon had summoned them, but he could understand that they needed to talk.

‘Aren’t you going to start, Sire?’ Gaius asked, evidently wanting to get back to Merlin. The servant hadn't regained consciousness yet, which was worrying. Arthur had thought they were making progress, and now it was trickling away before he could stop it.

‘I wasn’t the one who summoned us.’ That sentence was met with baffled looks, head spinning to each person at the table.

‘I was told Leon wanted us.’

‘I thought Gwen wanted us?’

‘Wasn’t this about Merlin? The servant told me Gaius wanted us.’ Arthur held a hand up, leaning forwards to look between his friends. The rush of chatter, the many questions fell quiet. It was accompanied by Arthur’s gut twisting into something horrible, nausea similar to how he had felt looking at Merlin lying on the table.

‘If none of us summoned this meeting, then why are we here?’ Leon’s mouth opened, then shut, and Arthur reached slowly for the sword at his side. He’d only just got his fingers to the hilt when the silence was broken once more.

‘No need for that. Call this a friendly visit.’ Morgana’s eyes were flashing golden, Arthur going to jump from his seat, but something was pushing him back down. Like a pressure against his chest, forcing his limbs back into the chair and his hand away from the sword that was pretty useless against their uninvited guest.

From the shadows at the corner of the room, Morgause slowly stepped into the light, a wicked smile on her face.

‘Now, let’s have a little chat.’

**

Merlin sat up gasping, clutching at the rope that he was sure was around his neck. Instead, he found a neckerchief around his skin, let his fingers run over it. Alive. Not tied down. He glanced around the room, found it empty of anyone, even Sefa. Her seat was still pulled up to the edge of the table, and the Warlock tried to think of what had happened.

Callum. The tournament, and the drug that he could still feel in his bloodstream. That wasn’t the worse thing, however. His Magic was picking up, tingling along his skin, and Merlin tried to recognise why it was warning him.

Where were the others? Merlin’s feet weren’t too keen on holding his body weight, but he eventually made it towards the door. His head was aching once more, Magic demanding it be let free to try and heal him, but something had him holding that back.

He could feel someone else’s Magic. It wasn’t Morgana’s, hers was warm and familiar and settled against his like they had been training together. He suspected that was why the spells she used were like his own, they had been practicing side by side. No, this Magic was dangerous and powerful, and it only took him a moment to place it.

Morgause. Which meant that Callum wasn’t alive, because otherwise she wouldn’t dare to get this close to Camelot. Whoever had killed Callum hadn't understood that it was the only thing keeping Morgause from coming in person to the Castle.

He should run. If he wanted to survive, he needed to leave Camelot and never come back. In fact, the idea had him walking all the way to the gates, until he halted.

If these were his friends, then could he really leave them to die? They didn’t deserve that, it wasn’t their fault that Morgause was a homicidal maniac. Plus, they didn’t really have any plan on beating her. If Arthur was the Once and Future King, Merlin was supposed to keep him safe. And Gwaine, the Knight that he was pretty sure he was in love with, he couldn’t let him die. Gwen, she had been nothing but kind. Percival, the big brother that he never really knew he needed until he came along. Gaius, and although that memory still hurt, he knew that he loved the man.

Lady Morgana, her bright Magic that felt so close to his. Elyan, the Knight that had been nothing but welcoming of him. Lancelot, the one that he distinctly remembered finding out about his Magic before the others had. Leon, curly-haired and highly protective. Sefa, if she was with them, she’d die too.

A dilemma, which must have looked odd to any of the people that were staring. Torn between taking another step, or returning to the Castle that would probably end up being the place of his death. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, to let his Magic have an input on the decision that he needed to reach.

He turned and walked away from the gate, away from his freedom. Back down the path and up into the Castle, feet leading him naturally towards the throne room. Not a Guard in sight, and Merlin suspected she’d gotten to them first. He’d deal with that after, if he survived the initial meeting. Hovering at the entrance, Merlin waited and peeked around the corner, only to find the situation more dire than he suspected.

Morgause stood perfectly still in the centre of the room, the Round Table upturned and thrown back. Each of the people he cared for, pinned down to the chair that they had been seated on. Even Morgana, despite the fact her eyes were golden. Unable to break free from the High Priestess that currently had them all captive, and Merlin sighed.

‘With the King of Camelot dead, there is only one logical heir to the throne.’ Morgana snarled, lip curling up as she glared at her half-sister.

‘I would never rule for you.’ Morgause shrugged, not bothered by that fact.

‘You don’t need to. I’ll kill you too if I have to. Or control you.’ Merlin stepped out of the shadows slowly, his footsteps echoing out. Morgause fell still, even as the people in front of her looked to Merlin in desperation. Whether they were telling him to fight or flee, he didn’t know.

‘Hello, Emrys.’ Morgause greeted, and Merlin rubbed at his forehead. It was worse than the hallucinations, because this time it was the real thing. This time, it was a High Priestess turning to look at him, her dark eyes studying him curiously.

‘My Lady.’ He greeted, his Magic getting ready for the fight that would have to come.

‘Have you decided which side you’re on?’ Morgause’s tone told him everything, if he chose them over her, he would have to fight for his life. Merlin briefly glanced past her, to the people that he had decided it was worth protecting, and he took a deep breath.

‘The side of Camelot.’ For a moment, her face fell. Then she shrugged, raising one hand ready for the spell that he knew was coming.

‘Very well then. I’ll go through you as well.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh so I know this chapter is probably not a good time to say this, but I'll be taking a break from updates for around a week ish? Just have some stuff I need to sort out, but I'll be back as soon as I can! :)


	15. A Warlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight between Morgause and Merlin

He was a Warlock. Supposedly the strongest one to walk the earth, if the prophecy was true. It didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified, like right now, when Morgause was summoning fire to her hands and Merlin barely had time to throw up the first shield. She had time to practice, had been trained to understand the Magic that she was gifted with. Merlin, however, had no such thing. He had never told Arthur about his Magic, had to keep it a secret, if his memories were to be believed.

It meant that he would need to do something drastic if he was to win. Raw power, that was what he had, but it was too dangerous to act in front of the others. If he hurt one of them, then all this was for nothing, so he had to lure Morgause away from the King and his people. Or, a better suggestion, snatch her away.

The fire hit his shield, a torrent of oranges and reds that were strong enough to have him stumbling back slightly, before he pushed through them. His eyes would be glowing just as bright as hers, he knew that, and he tumbled towards her and managed to get a hold of bare skin.

Apparition wasn’t something he was very good at. In fact, he distinctly remembered struggling with it long before he was snatched by the Lady Morgause. Still, he grabbed hold of her arm and got enough contact to tug her with him, felt the air rush as they landed on grass.

He’d made it to the training grounds, slightly better than tearing apart the Castle. His Magic came from the elements, so as soon as he had his hands on the grass, he soaked up as much as he could possibly contain. Morgause was screeching, another wave of Magic sending him sprawling back onto the floor. Fire accompanied her power, his skin burning as it hit, distinct memories of doing this with the last High Priestess that tried to kill him.

Merlin rose his head wearily, noted that she’d managed to summon a storm, dark clouds rolling over them. Powerful beyond belief, standing with the fire that she could wield with deadly affect. Merlin forced himself to stand, each muscle screaming at the protest as he looked to the sky.

One thing he knew about Morgause, she struggled to control all of the elements at once. Fire was her gift, with the storm showing her affect over wind. The water would come from the rain, not that she wanted that when her main strength was fire.

Merlin had the earth. He knew that, let his power race down to the ground and begin to attack. It trembled as the grass split, vines that snaked out creeping across the space towards her. Morgause fired another spell, but Merlin had time to block this one, even if it sent his backwards towards one of the trees.

Next was his attempt to steal the storm from her. He called out his Magic, felt his smile break when the clouds began to empty. The rain lashed down angrily, splashing around them and hissing with each spell Morgause continued to fire. He could barely see through it, the rain running into the cracks that littered the ground as he stretched out his arms, let his eyes flick shut and trusted his Magic to answer.

His Magic was a part of him, he could breathe it, could feel it in his body as he abandoned his sense of sight to gift the power across. His limbs moved without his command, ducking another spell that would have had him unconscious, controlling the plants as they moved closer to her. She was trying to deflect his power, and Merlin pushed harder at the barriers in his mind that told him too much might hurt.

It happened so quickly that he couldn’t stop it. His mind cracked, a flood of agony and pain and memories that couldn’t possibly be real.

Of a lonely Warlock, with nobody that understood. Of a Dragon that never quite told the whole truth, a Witch that was supposed to go dark. A boyish-Prince that grew into a King, despite the reign of the tyrant before. Of Knights dressed in red, the ones that he could never quite trust enough. An Uncle that had almost died, no, he _had_ died due to the last High Priestess. A girl that would one-day become Queen, the warmest of hearts that he loved so. A druid-girl, that bled out sticky red while he clutched at her. A man that had taken a hit for him, a father that he had never quite learnt to love.

If that was his life, he wasn’t sure he wanted to back. So much pain, agony that made his heart split as he tried to focus on the present, but it was hard.

He let his scream echo out, let it burst free as he gave in to everything that burned around him. Wherever Merlin went, people got hurt. People died, all because he wasn’t quite strong enough to complete his Destiny.

The Magic left him in a wave, one that he was sure would be visible if he could open his eyes. Instead, his knees hit the ground below, soft and squidgy with the wet mud that splashed around him. The rain continued to pour, but his Magic was gone, depleted, and he dared to finally raise his head.

Despite the rain that blurred his vision, he could see where Morgause had stood. She wasn’t there any longer, nothing more than the light-armour that she had been wearing left behind. The ground was still broken, half-charred vines that were lying motionless, and it took the Warlock a moment to realise that there was death all around him. Not a single blade of grass remained upright, a ring around where he was currently slumped.

Another set of golden eyes were staring, horror on the face of the Lady Morgana who had rushed across in her dress, wet hair plastered to her face. Merlin couldn’t rise up, it all hurt too much, he could do nothing but let out a sob.

His lips tried to shape a word, to plead and beg, but it was too much. There were others, the people of Camelot rushing to see what could have possibly happened. Wanting to know why a storm was threatening to flood them, and Merlin fought for control.

He felt his spine snap straight, his Magic wrapping around him in a burst of gold. His eyes burnt with it, he couldn’t see through the flames that licked around, and he vaguely heard someone screaming his name.

When the sky parted, the sun hit his skin first. The clouds drained, drifting away as the land was bathed in light, the Warlock clenching his fist and letting the vines retreat back into the ground.

Control. He had regained it, and could finally find his voice.

‘Morgana.’ That was about all he managed, because dots started to dance across his vision. He tipped to the side, the world spinning as he hit the sodden ground.

Not quite peace, but it was close.


	16. Healing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fight

Morgana was terrified. Never before had she felt such fear, not even living under Uther’s reign with the peril of the pyre looming over her. Watching Morgause wield her element with such deadly control, that was what would haunt her at night. The response from Merlin, the way his Magic burst out with his emotions, the wave that had sent the Knights behind her skidding back into the mud. She barely managed to block the wave herself, kept her eyes on the Warlock as he tried to separate the storm.

When he whispered her name, it sounded lost. She felt her heart break for him, could tell in that moment that he remembered her. But then he was falling, his eyes fluttering shut and his body hitting the muddy water beneath, and she ran.

He was far too light in her arms, face cold as her fingers moved over his skin, trying to find a pulse. Down the collar of his shirt, past the soaked clothing and to where his skin was exposed, pressing right over his heart. Faint, thrumming under her as she scooped him up into her lap, turned her attention to the King of Camelot.

Arthur still looked slightly lost. She supposed that it was a lot to take in, finding out that his manservant not only had Magic, and had been tortured to try and kill him, but also could kill a High Priestess despite not being on top form… It had to be hard. Gwaine and Percival didn’t need the time to think, but both for different reasons. The larger Knight snatched Merlin away from her, lifted him against the Knight’s chest and pressed his ear to his heart. Love, but in the brotherly sense, she could tell how protective he would be.

Gwaine looked like he was ready to die. His skin was white, eyes watching Merlin’s chest for signs of life, and when Percival gave a nod, the Knight slumped. She reached to steady him, the trio cradling the Warlock between them, and waited for Arthur’s decision on what to do.

**

He woke up on a bed that definitely wasn’t his. Not only that, but there was a hand in his hair, soothing fingers running between the strands and lightly massaging the scalp. A tune was accompanying the touch, gentle and quiet, as if the person feared waking him. Morgana, he realised a moment later, was the one pressed against his side. Tucked up against him like a blanket would be, with her head resting against his chest. Not the one that had a hand in his hair, which he identified as Percival.

The Knight was underneath him, and actually a rather nice pillow. Combined with the fact that Gwaine was against his other side, Merlin’s head pressed into his soft hair, he was actually rather happy to stay there.

‘Merls?’ Gwaine knew him too well, Merlin decided. He struggled to rise, too many hands trying to support him, and he eventually managed to locate himself.

Morgana’s Chambers. He turned to look at the Sorceress briefly, winced when a faint ache told him he still shouldn’t be able to bear to look at her. He ignored the feeling, shoved it deep down in favour of risking a cheeky smile.

‘Did you miss me?’ Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the bright smile that he used, but the result was instantaneous. Morgana latched onto him like an urchin, arms around his neck as she used her weight to knock them back. He laughed, happy when her Magic stretched out for him, let his move to settle beside hers. Almost like old times.

‘Goddess I was so worried! I thought you’d never… we’d never get you back.’ In that moment, Morgana looked a lot like her actual age. Young, for everything she had gone through, and Merlin comforted her like he did when the nightmares got too much. A hand to the side of her cheek, the other to take her hand. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, watching as her worried expression turned to one of safety.

‘I’m not that easy to get rid of.’ Then he turned to Gwaine, but he knew they could discuss their issues later. The Knight gave a brief nod, which left Merlin to look up to Percival.

‘We’ll tell Arthur you’re awake.’ Morgana cheered, grabbed Gwaine’s arm and dragged him from the bed. When the door shut behind them, Merlin awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck.

‘I guess I should say thank you, for everything you did…’ He was cut off when large hands came to rest on his shoulders, realised Percival’s smile was brighter than he’d ever seen it.

‘Can I hug you?’ The question reminded Merlin that not everything was back to normal, he still had a long way to go before he could forget what had happened with Morgause. Memories of pain, of hands on his skin, it made everything threaten to shatter.

But then there was Percival, with a face showed nothing but patience, and Merlin let himself have the moment. Latched on just as Morgana had done, and allowed a few tears to spill.

**

‘You’ll be glad to know that George is back as my stand-in, so no more brass jokes.’ Merlin cheered, entering Arthur’s Chambers with his dinner. The King looked up from where he was seated at the desk, a smirk twitching at his lips.

‘What have I said about knocking, Merlin?’ For his part, the Warlock completely ignored the King, placed down the food and poured him a goblet of wine, surprised when a hand halted him from turning. Arthur’s bright eyes studied him for a moment, perhaps trying to ascertain if he was telling the truth about being perfectly ready for duty, before he nodded.

‘I suppose I should be pleased that you managed to get rid of one of Camelot’s biggest threats.’ Merlin was lucky he had his back to Arthur, because he was shocked at the almost-thanks that he just received.

‘I didn’t know bootlicking was that severe.’ Merlin supplied, dodged the pillow that was lobbed at his head, cackling at Arthur’s frown. He even dared to use Magic to light the fire, just to test the reaction. When Arthur didn’t even pause from his food, the Warlock smiled.

Not quite perfect, but almost.

**

‘Gaius…’ He didn’t get time to apologise, because he was being pulled into a hug. It took him a moment to get used to the feeling, and to forget what had been drilled into his head during his time in the Dark Tower. Gaius was waiting for that to happen, he realised, keeping his hands firm yet not moving, waiting for Merlin’s response. The Warlock hugged back with only a split-second to pause.

‘It’s good to have you back, my boy.’ How he’d missed that term, he thought as he stepped back, found Gaius studying him just as Arthur had done. Apparently he wasn’t as pleased, gestured down to the bowl of what looked to be chicken broth, and Merlin grinned.

‘My favourite.’

‘I know. After everything you’ve done these past couple of days, I think this is the least you deserve.’ The praise was most definitely welcome. He sat down behind the bench, quickly began to scoff down the food while Gaius chattered on about his work, and Merlin realised that he had missed this just as much as everything else.

**

‘Do you want to go back? To how it was before?’ Gwaine asked, the two of them walking side by side towards the training grounds. Merlin had been thinking over that very issue last night in bed, trying to understand how best to continue with his friendship. Or more than that, as had been shown by the kiss.

‘I never want to stop being friends, Gwaine. I just… liked it being slightly more.’ Before the Dark Tower, Merlin would never have said such a thing. It just didn’t happen to servants like him. They didn’t get the happiness that they wanted, Gwen being the exception to the rule. However, then there had been the torture, and fighting for Arthur, and his mind almost being made as mushy as the fruits used to attack him in the stocks. He deserved a little more than hiding his feelings.

‘We can do that. Flirty with a side of courting, got it.’ It was accompanied by a wink, one that had Merlin blushing, before Arthur told them to stop dawdling and they hurried across. Well, Merlin did, Gwaine sauntered up and rested beside him, nudging his shoulder.

‘You’ve got some admirers.’ Gwaine murmured, Merlin glancing over to some of the younger Knights. Of course, word had spread quickly about Merlin literally changing the weather.

‘Mm, maybe they would be better for me.’ He joked, then hid his yelp when an arm snaked around his waist. It was very obvious, none of the Round Table Knights looking fazed, although Percival’s gaze narrowed for the smallest of moments. Then he smiled, looking back to Arthur, who had a deep frown as he spotted the two of them.

‘Merlin! With me.’ Gwaine snorted, released him so he could jog across to the King, who gestured for him to pick up a sword.

Merlin did, then almost tripped over himself, which wasn’t unexpected. When he finally managed to get himself righted, the King had his head cocked like he was expecting something different. Of course, Merlin knew how to fight now, if he just focused a little.

It was harder than he thought, trying to separate the training from the memories that came back with it. Enough so that Arthur stepped towards him, as did the Knights.

‘Merlin? Too much?’ The briefest flash of the other Knight came, but it was shoved down a second later, and Merlin swung the sword lazily.

‘Not at all. Just ready to beat your arse, Sire.’

He did regret that sentence later, when he eventually was unarmed by the King of Camelot, dropped down and narrowly avoided falling onto Gwen, who had arrived at the side-lines to watch. Morgana was by her side, and just behind them, the new maid-servant, Sefa. She shot him a grin, even dared to stick her tongue out, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

An improvement, despite Arthur’s smug gaze.


End file.
